


demi-sec

by entrechat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (not sunaosas), Alcohol, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Weddings, just Suna and Osamu being shitheads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 17:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entrechat/pseuds/entrechat
Summary: He wasn’t completely sure why Motoya was so adamant on him going. It wasn’t like they were going to spend much time together considering Motoya was in the wedding party.The only reason Rintarou relented was the fact that he didn’t have anything better to do and Motoya promised an open bar. That and the chance to see Osamu. It had been a little over three months and Rintarou would deny it if asked, but he was starting to miss that sleepy little grin.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	demi-sec

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bastigod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastigod/gifts).



> additional characters:  
> sakusa kiyoomi, miya atsumu, ginjima hitoshi, komori motoya
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY BASTI !!  
> aha remember that prompt i dropped and you said it was sunaosa? well here it is <3  
> just some tender shitheadery, i hope u like it

Of all ways to waste an entire Saturday, a wedding is the last thing Rintarou wants to attend. Much less the wedding of two of the most bland, life-sucking, callous jerks he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting.

That, of course, being Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi — who is about to become Miya Kiyoomi, Rintarou remembers with a shudder.

He honestly hadn’t expected to _not_ be invited. He had just hoped his invitation would go missing in the mail. Sadly, even if it had, that wouldn’t have made a difference. He used to go to school with one of the grooms. His two best friends each happened to be one of the best men. Motoya begged, actually got down on his knees and pleaded, for Rintarou to send in a confirmation of his attendance.

He wasn’t completely sure why Motoya was so adamant on him going. It wasn’t like they were going to spend much time together considering Motoya was _in_ the wedding party.

The only reason Rintarou relented was the fact that he didn’t have anything better to do and Motoya promised an open bar. That and the chance to see Osamu. It had been a little over three months and Rintarou would deny it if asked, but he was starting to miss that sleepy little grin.

So, that’s how Rintarou finds himself in a navy suit that he wants to rip off his shoulders and a pair of dress shoes he had to borrow from his brother in law after tearing the sole of his old pair. A pair of glossy, brown oxfords that are a half size too small.

Rintarou started plotting three murders the second he put the shoes on. The severity of which only increased when he entered the event hall for the ceremony.

Grumbling to himself about the amount of people here — how did Kiyoomi and Atsumu even know this many people? — Rintarou finds an aisle seat near the back and sinks into it. He yanks his phone from his pocket and finds Motoya’s contact, sending several very heated messages and some scathing remarks his mother would not be proud of. He knows Motoya wouldn’t be checking his phone anytime soon, but it was the thought that counted.

The worst part of it all is that Tatsuki got an out and didn’t have to show up when Motoya groveled. Something about a cousin breaking his leg and needing to go help his aunt take care of them.

Rintarou would take a broken leg right about now.

Leveling the rest of the room with a once over, Rintarou decides he doesn’t like the color scheme on principle alone. He turns up his nose distastefully before tucking his chin to his chest and crossing his arms across his chest to slump down into his chair. He subconsciously hears Shinsuke’s voice chastising his posture.

Halfway into a thought contemplating whether or not he should slump onto the aisle and feign a heart attack, Hitoshi saves him from his potential social demise.

“Suna!” Hitoshi chirps, dropping himself in the seat beside Rintarou and lightly pushing their shoulders together. “Glad t’ see ya showed yer face. Kosaku and I were makin’ bets on whether you were comin’ or not.”

Rintarou gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. “So glad I could amuse you guys,” he snorted out, running his hands down his slacks and leaning forward to peer at the other end of the stretch of chairs to spot Kosaku and a woman Rintarou only knew through pictures. He gave a gentle lift of his hand in greeting, lips pulled in a tight smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend was thrilled to witness that, Gin.”

“Actually she was,” Hitoshi defends, grinning almost too puppy-like for Rintarou’s tastes. “She’s the one who won the bet. Doesn’t even know ya and she’s already gotcha pegged.”

With a loud — maybe a little too loud — groan, Rintarou huffs without malice. “God you’re perfect for each other. It’s a little disgusting, no offense.”

“None taken,” Hitoshi assures with another shoulder check. “Well gotta get back t’ Hanako. Don’t be a stranger, Suna. If ya wanna hang out with us durin’ the reception, ‘m sure Hanako wouldn’t mind.”

Rintarou nods to show he heard before Hitoshi rises to his feet with a grunt under his breath. Just like that Rintarou is left alone again to contemplate his entire life leading up to this moment where he’s forced to sit and watch two people proclaim some sort of love with no real promise of it lasting until death do they part. He sneers a bit while the seats around him begin to fill.

There’s a moment Rintarou thinks he halfway blacked out, eyes glossing over as the wedding party floats down the aisle to pretty string music. He doesn’t really care to be completely mentally present. Not like he’ll be quizzed on the order people came down or what will be said in the vows.

He blinks back to reality when a rush of air comes by him, closer than with the others that passed him. He quirks a brow until he realizes he’s looking at the back of broad shoulders and tensed muscles, a lithe waist, and that familiar black undercut.

Osamu.

Rintarou’s breath catches in his throat and his hands curl into fists resting on his knees when he realizes. He hates how caught off guard he is with his own reaction.

Fuck, did he really miss Osamu that much?

Surely he didn’t, not like he really had a reason to.

_Liar._

Rintarou ignores the sniveling voice at the back of his mind and instead focuses on the slightly relaxed posture Osamu stands in, just to the side of the altar. He absently realizes the music has changed and people around him are standing. Osamu’s gaze lingers long enough to burn and Rintarou internally sputters until he rises to his feet.

Not once do his eyes stray to watch both Atsumu and Kiyoomi walk towards the altar, too busy trading subtle and silent words with one of the best men.

Osamu looks… well for one he looks way too handsome. Suit fitted to perfection and gold tie complimenting his eyes. It should be illegal to look like that and Rintarou has half a mind to get some damn law enforcement down here.

In fact Rintarou even amends his previous judgement on the color scheme, simply because Osamu makes it look far better than he could’ve imagined. To a point, maybe. Rintarou thinks those colors would look better haphazardly tossed to the floor an-

_Gross, Rintarou. Focus._

But apart from the obvious, Osamu meets Rintarou’s eyes with a slight quirk of his lip and subtle eye roll that flashes by so quickly Rintarou would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been staring so intensely, nearly forgetting to blink. He looks slightly bored if Rintarou understands that look well enough, and he’s confident enough in how easily he can read Osamu.

So they’re on the same page. Bored and definitely wanting to be anywhere but here.

Rintarou purses his lips through an exhale, slightly pouting, and looks at Osamu with a slightly flat expression. He sits when he sees the woman beside him sit in his peripherals but his eyes stay on Osamu, and tracks the slight shake of shoulders in a silent laugh.

The ceremony has started, yet Rintarou doesn’t catch a single word. Too invested in this silent game they’re playing.

At some point Rintarou is made aware that Atsumu has started making his vows, because Osamu jerks his head ever so lightly towards the happy couple, particularly because he has to at least _pretend_ to be interested in what's happening. For his brother’s sake, Rintarou supposes.

It’s right when Atsumu’s voice cracks around a watery smile that Rintarou finally lets himself listen to what’s being said. Rintarou can’t contain the little snicker, teeth wrapping around the skin beside his thumbnail so it comes out a little muffled. The woman beside him still bristles slightly at the sound and Rintarou fights to not burst into louder laughs.

He genuinely listens to Atsumu speak. No matter how often he’d ridicule and tease and make fun of Atsumu for being gay — Rintarou says it like he isn’t very, _very_ gay himself — he is pretty happy that Atsumu is settling down and found someone to tolerate his shit personality for the rest of their lives.

Rintarou hums in delight when Atsumu wraps up his vows by trying to swoop forward for a kiss but blinks and straightens back up when he remembers it’s not time for that yet. He tucks that memory away for later and ignores the way the woman beside him coos at Atsumu wiping his tears.

Quite frankly, Rintarou has no idea who she is.

When Kiyoomi takes his turn to say his vows, Rintarou’s eyes naturally float back over to Osamu. There’s that sleepy grin taking up the whole of his face that Rintarou had been missing. He suddenly feels like his ears are on fire. He’s glad his hair has grown out a bit that it covers the tips of them, or else he’d be afraid of getting caught with the skin tinted red.

Rintarou allows himself one little sigh, mostly to relieve the pressure in his chest. He relaxes into the chair and greets Osamu with a crooked smirk when their eyes meet once again.

Kiyoomi and Atsumu are saying their ‘I do’s’ and Rintarou is pretending to gag with minute movements so he isn’t a disturbance. Osamu sneakily nods his head and then when the couple kisses and everyone is clapping, it seems like Osamu is sure nobody will be focusing on him. So he lifts his thumb to his lips, bites at the skin around his nail like Rintarou had done before, and throws a sly wink.

Rintarou blanches, mouth dropping open before Osamu’s taking off down the aisle with the rest of the wedding party after Kiyoomi and Atsumu had traipsed away.

Their arms brush again and Rintarou’s hands twitch in his lap.

_Since when did Osamu get so fucking smooth?_

—

Enjoying the full ambiance at the reception is easier than Rintarou expected it to be. Granted it didn’t come without a little help. As soon as he finds his table he’s glad to see the other seats filled with familiar faces. Flanked by Hitoshi and his girlfriend on one side and Michinari on the other is more relaxing than he thought possible.

Also the added fact that as soon as he sits down he’s met with several cheers and a shot glass of sake is shoved into his hand, which he happily downs without a second thought. Following that up, glasses of champagne are set in front of all the guests as the grooms both emerge and the entire room sends a boisterous cheers to their marriage.

By the time the first course, a wide range of beautifully colorful and fresh sushi, is served, Rintarou has two more shots under his belt and a pleasant buzz in his chest.

He resigns himself to not being an active participant in the conversation around him, allowing his old teammates’ voices to rattle around in his ears and filling in the gaps with hums of acknowledgement and laughs at certain anecdotes. It’s easy and he’s grateful he doesn’t have to try too hard. It’s much better than remembering where he is and the time he’s wasting.

Honestly, Rintarou hasn’t even thought about the recently married couple since their arrival. At least not until there’s a subtle crash and he turns to look over his shoulder at the wedding party’s table. Rintarou swallows, throat slightly dry, when he spots Osamu again.

It’s incredibly nostalgic, seeing the shattered glass on the ground and Osamu thumping a blushing Atsumu on the back of the head. He can see Osamu’s lips wrap around a word that Rintarou is incredibly sure must be _aho._

Then Osamu is standing up and rolling his eyes at his brother while one of the servers comes by to sweep up the broken glass. Suddenly he’s walking towards one of the tables lining the side of the room, a table with more drink glasses and several platters of fruit and pastries.

Rintarou is on his feet and fleeing his table before he can think twice.

He’s keenly aware of the fact that it feels like he’s going to throw up his own heart with the way it’s trying to crack his ribs when his elbow bumps against Osamu’s while he reaches for a plate as an excuse to be standing there.

Osamu’s eyes glint when he finds Rintarou standing beside him and there’s an unmistakable grin on his lips. Really, Rintarou needs to get a grip. It’s only been three months living an Osamu-less life but that’s three months too long.

Hearing the soft drawl of, “Hiya, stranger. Whatcha thinkin’ of eatin’?” is enough to make Rintarou black out on the spot.

He doesn’t black out, thankfully.

Rintarou manages to reign it in enough to lightly shoulder check Osamu with a lazy grin. “Mm, don’t know yet. Everything looks pretty good.”

Osamu reaches for a grape and goes to toss it in the air, mouth open, before Rintarou leans in and intercepts, effortlessly catching the grape in his own mouth and grinning maniacally.

“Oi, asshole,” Osamu snorts, before realizing just how close Rintarou had gotten.

Rintarou clears his throat and pointedly steps back, thankful the only heat he feels on his skin resides at the back of his neck.

“Ya know, ‘m glad yer here, Rin. I was worried ‘bout how _bored_ I was gonna be all day,” Osamu shrugs, eyes alight with mischief.

Something tightens in Rintarou’s chest. Just hearing that Osamu is happy to see him is lighting up a firecracker in the pit of stomach and he’s trying not to let it show. There’s just something so comforting about Osamu. He’s reminded once again how much easier it is to be around Osamu than anyone else. He’s thankful he came. Just this once, he’s thankful.

“You’re bored, too?” Osamu nods in confirmation. “Did you have something in mind to do?” Osamu nods again, dropping a bunch of grapes on his plate and jerking his head back in the direction of Rintarou’s seat.

Eyes widening in understanding, Rintarou grabs some hors d’oeuvres and shuffles back to his chair, sitting and turning a bit to see Osamu in his peripherals. Several people are already up and dancing, most of the attention on the full dance floor.

Rintarou turns a bit more, and finds himself looking at Osamu with a grape raised. Sparing his surroundings a quick glance, he locks eyes with Osamu and then a grape is flying in his direction. Rintarou catches it with ease, pumping his fist in celebration.

Two more grapes sail right into Rintarou’s mouth, only separated by quiet laughter. The fourth grape, however, floats over his head and bounces right off the back of someone’s head. Rintarou watches like it’s happening in slow motion, and the second they touch the back of their head, Rintarou is already striding over to the side tables.

Osamu seems to have the same idea, because they’re nearly falling over each other laughing by the time they’re next to each other again.

“How,” Rintarou hiccups, holding onto Osamu’s forearms for balance, “ _how_ did you miss that bad?”

Osamu stumbles a bit when Rintarou drops his head onto Osamu’s shoulder, leaning against the table behind him and ducking his head. “There’s a reason I wasn’t a setter,” Osamu retorts, sighing out heavily and letting go of one of Rintarou’s arms to wipe tears that have started to form at the corners of his eyes.

Rintarou recovers first, lifting his head off of Osamu and taking a deep breath. “Fuck, that was the highlight of the night.”

“Don’t say that,” Osamu mumbles with a click of his tongue. He twists slightly, grabbing two champagne flutes and handing one over to Rintarou. “I think we can find somethin’ to top that.”

“Tell me if this is going too far,” Rintarou starts, downing the entire glass in one go before reaching around Osamu to set it back on the table. He swipes his tongue over his top teeth and inhales lightly. “Do you wanna get outta here as soon as possible?”

“Yeah… where are ya goin’ with this, Rin?”

Rintarou glances to the side, eyes focusing on one thing in particular. “Well if we leave now, we won’t be able to get any cake.”

Instantly, Osamu seems to catch on, eyes snapping over to follow Rintarou’s eye line and settle on the three tiered wedding cake. Rintarou watches him consider it, shock melting into an impish grin. He slowly turns his head back to look at Rintarou and raises an eyebrow, running his fingers through his fringe to push it back.

“I _am_ ‘Tsumu’s twin. Technically I have rights to it.”

Rintarou reaches out to fist bump Osamu and then places a hand on his hip. “Get a slice, steal some champagne, and run. How are we going to do it without getting caught?”

Osamu’s eyes scan the room and then he gently presses a hand at the bottom of Rintarou’s spine, guiding him towards the cake so they can pretend to marvel at it. There’s a shirt and jacket between Osamu’s hand and Rintarou’s skin, but it still feels warm and solid. Rintarou subconsciously leans into the touch.

“Nobody is even lookin’ at us,” Osamu says, head turned just a bit to be against Rintarou’s ear. Goosebumps bristle down his arms and the octave of Osamu’s voice. “Too busy greetin’ my idiot brother and idiot brother-in-law. It’ll be easy if we’re fast.”

Rintarou nods because he doesn’t particularly trust his voice right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, because Rintarou is rigidly staring at the wall in front of him, Osamu reaches for something, and then that something — cold and wet with condensation — is being pressed into his hand. He grips on instinct and he glances down to find an unopened bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Keep an eye out ’n’ kick me if someone starts lookin’.”

Nodding again, Rintarou turns his back to the cake and tries not to buckle under the pressure. He’s a highly respected and feared middle blocker for fucks sake.

He swipes his thumb over the side of the champagne bottle he’s holding slightly behind his back and levels the room with a blank stare, keenly aware of the minuscule movements happening behind him.

Each second that ticks by feels like it’s grinding on Rintarou’s nerves and his fingers twitch like he has an itch to scratch. The relief that floods through him supersedes the shock of Osamu holding a small chunk of cake to his mouth.

Rintarou doesn’t even think twice before wrapping his lips around the sponge, trying not to think about how his lips have to drag over the tips of Osamu’s fingers.

He swallows down the cake and his throat feels extremely dry.

His eyes linger on the way Osamu smirks, popping his own piece in his mouth. Then Osamu grabs another unopened champagne bottle and lifts it in a mock cheers.

Rintarou is so fucked.

—

With his too-tight dress shoes hanging over two crooked fingers, and a half empty champagne bottle dangling precariously from the loose grip he has on its neck, Rintarou walks as if he’s on a tightrope instead of the fountain edge he’s actually on.

The other bottle Osamu and Rintarou had procured is already finished, laying empty in the grass of the courtyard. Rintarou feels warm and the soft breeze carries some of the water from the fountain onto his face. It’s refreshing to the slightly foggy mind.

Osamu follows Rintarou’s path around the fountain, but walking on the actual ground, one hand lifted ready to steady Rintarou if he were to wobble on his imaginary tightrope.

He’s pretty sure Osamu is more affected by the alcohol than Rintarou is, but the sentiment is nice.

“Isn’t it weird?” Rintarou suddenly asks, lifting the bottle to his mouth and taking a short swig. Osamu hums to show he’s listening. “That your brother is married now. It feels weird as fuck.”

Osamu chuckles, warm and soft. Rintarou stumbles on the next step and Osamu presses to the back of Rintarou’s thigh so he doesn’t completely collapse.

“A little, I guess. I never really thought of it.”

In a burst of courage, supported by the buzz in his limbs, Rintarou asks, “Do you ever want to get married?”

“Maybe,” Osamu shrugs. Rintarou hands him the bottle after another sip and Osamu takes it with his arm not held out in support. He takes his own sip. “Honestly, ‘m not all that worried ‘bout it. If the person ‘m with wants t’ get married, then maybe. But I don’t need silly titles and a piece of paper t’ prove m’love.”

His words slur together a bit more than usual and Rintarou can’t help but grin as he watches Osamu take another long pull of champagne before tossing the empty bottle towards the grass with the other one.

“Who said you could drink the last sip?” Rintarou mumbles.

“Ya gonna fight me over it or somethin’?” Osamu asks behind a groan, pulling himself to stand on the stone edge of the fountain, turning to face Rintarou.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Rintarou sneers, teeth bared playfully.

Rintarou moves to make a swipe at Osamu, forgetting his shoes are still in his hand. He teeters a bit and drops them onto the floor, struggling to regain his balance as he reaches out for Osamu to steady himself.

He misjudges the distance — he’s never been that good at depth perception after a couple drinks — and finds himself crashing into Osamu’s chest with a dull thud and a strained exhale of breath.

Flushing at the sudden change of proximity, Rintarou feels the vibration and shake of Osamu’s body that comes with his laughter. Rintarou can’t help but be sucked into how infectious it is, snorting at himself and chuckling too.

“Hi,” Rintarou mumbles, half muffled by Osamu’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Osamu calls back, hands almost instantly combing through Rintarou’s hair. And if he leans into the touch, nobody is around to witness.

The heat of how close they are all gets a bit too much, so Rintarou makes a pull to step back, again misjudging the distance, and he heel slips over the side of the fountain. He doesn’t even think to let go of Osamu before the world is turning sideways despite Osamu staying upright in his vision.

It takes a while to understand what’s happening, but then he’s crashing into water and it sobers him up a little, chest heaving as he sits up in the basin and spits out the water that flooded into his mouth.

A stream of violent water hits the side of his head as Osamu splashes him.

“Ya didn’t hafta take me out with ya,” Osamu snipes, no venom in his voice and smile betraying the words.

Rintarou rolls his eyes as he turns to smile back at Osamu, much more understated.

“I can firmly say this was way more fun than anything back in that building,” Rintarou hums, relaxing with his legs still draped over the fountain wall, leaning back on his hands, some coins biting into his palms.

“I always have fun with you, Rin.”

Rintarou is glad he can blame his blush on the alcohol.

Then Osamu is leaning forward and Rintarou’s brain short circuits. He completely blanks out as Osamu reaches up a palm to hold the side of Rintarou’s face.

All at once he blinks back into the current situation and pushes his hand onto Osamu’s shoulder to hold him back.

“What are you doing?”

“I-,” Osamu seems taken aback to have been stopped. Rintarou hates that he stopped him, because he hadn’t read the situation wrong at all, but the circumstances are wrong. “I was gonna try ’n’ kiss ya,” Osamu answers.

“You’re drunk, ‘Samu. _I’m_ drunk.”

Osamu shakes his head roughly, eyes full of something fond. “Doesn’t matter. Still wanna kiss ya.”

Rintarou feels a pang in his chest, and he blinks away the hope he’s feeling. He has to be sure though.

“Can I be honest? I’m only saying this because I think you’ll forget in the morning.” Osamu doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, only breathes slowly and waits. “I’ve had the dumbest crush on you probably since third year. I thought it would go away but it’s only gotten worse and I really _really_ want to kiss you too.” Rintarou pauses to clear his throat, shocking himself with how much he’s speaking and how fast. “Believe me, all I’ve thought about today is kissing you.”

“So do it,” Osamu provides, shrugging.

“That’s the thing. If I’m gonna kiss ya,” Rintarou ignores the twitch of Osamu’s lips as he starts to fall into mimicking his accent, “I want to do it right. I want both of us to be sober and I want to know you mean it.”

Osamu nods, processing, and drops his hand into his lap with a soft splash.

Rintarou breathes out, grateful for the understanding, chest still tight.

“So, I can’t kiss ya?”

Turning his head to look back at Osamu, Rintarou is met with a slight pout and cloudy eyes. Rintarou huffs and reaches out to thread his fingers through damp hair. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

—

Rintarou wakes up with a throbbing just behind his eyes, a stale taste in his mouth, and the sensation that his limbs are eighty kilos heavier than usual.

He manages to pull himself up to a sitting position, holding his head and groaning. He’s starting to regret how much he drank with Osamu.

_Osamu._

Rintarou hisses as the memories of last night come into play, the sight of Osamu trying to kiss him after sneaking out of Atsumu’s wedding. The embarrassment crops up when he remembers he stopped Osamu and dropped his heart into his lap. He can’t decide if he wants Osamu to remember or not.

The dry feeling of his mouth spurs him to finally stand. He drags his socked feet across the cold flood, scratching at his neck as he wanders into the kitchen. He finds a clean glass among several unwashed dishes and pours himself some water, rifling through a cabinet until he snatches a bottle of painkillers.

He downs the water with two pills and relaxes against the counter.

Until a movement from his living room makes him tense up in confusion. He sets down the glass as slowly as possible and pulls a knife from the block. He swallows as he creeps towards the source of the movement. A head whips into view over the back of the couch and he shouts.

The intruder comes in the form of a bleary eyed Osamu, still in his button up but missing his tie, jacket, and pants. He jolts at the scream and responds with a shout of his own, collapsing onto the floor in front of the couch.

“Jesus fuck, Osamu! What are you doing here? I almost knifed you!” Rintarou chastises in a raised voice, waving around the knife for emphasis.

“Stop swingin’ that thing around, you lunatic!” Osamu squeaks, raising his hands in surrender. “Ya told me I could crash here last night, ‘cause I didn’t wanna deal with ‘Tsumu bein’ pissed at me if I walked back in soakin’ wet.”

Rintarou stops moving, squinting as he tries to recall the events between telling Osamu they couldn’t kiss and waking up this morning.

He deflates a little, angry with his stupid drunk brain and stalks back to the kitchen to put the knife away. Osamu hops over the back of the couch and shuffles towards Rintarou.

“Can I kiss ya, now?”

Rintarou seizes up, all his muscles going taught as he whirls around to level Osamu with a wild stare.

“Yeah I remember, aho. I still wanna kiss ya and maybe take ya t’ dinner,” Osamu hums out, rocking back and forth on his feet. “So get over here and put yer lips on mine and let me kiss ya stupid.”

The words shock Rintarou into action and he breaks into a relieved grin, walking over and dropping his hands onto Osamu’s hips. He squeezes, like he’s trying to make sure Osamu is actually there. Osamu’s hands wind around to slide up into his hair and he pulls Rintarou down the smallest bit.

Then they’re kissing, slow, easy, and warm. Osamu sucks Rintarou’s bottom lip between his own and Rintarou hums as he pulls Osamu closer. It sets every part of Rintarou’s body alight with something more intoxicating than alcohol.

Rintarou breaks first, pulling back and smirking lightly. He pinches Osamu’s side lightly where his fingers have slipped under his shirt. “Your mouth tastes like shit,” Rintarou whispers in a tone that sounds too loving for the sentence.

“Let me brush my teeth so we can kiss some more,” Osamu whispers back.

Laughter bubbles out of Rintarou’s mouth and he hits Osamu’s chest lightly before placing a closed mouth kiss on his lips. He steps back and slips his hand into Osamu’s to pull him into the bathroom with a relaxed smile. He guesses he can stop yelling at his drunk self for the time being, despite still feeling incredibly stupid.

“By the way, did Atsumu ever notice the cake?” Rintarou asks as he digs through the cabinet under his sink for a spare toothbrush. He emerges victorious as he hands it to Osamu before grabbing his own from it’s holder.

“Nah, but Kiyoomi-kun did,” he mumbles with a shudder. “I woke up to thirteen texts, I don’t wanna think about it.”

Rintarou shoulder checks him as he shoves his toothpaste covered toothbrush into his mouth as starts scrubbing at his teeth. “Just tell him it was me,” he mumbles around the foam in his mouth. “He likes me better than you.”

Osamu grins and leans over to kiss his cheek. “We’re never havin’ a cake if we get married.”

“We don’t need to get married,” Rintarou shrugs, “I just need you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to dylan and grace for betaing <3
> 
> come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/matsucockwa)


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